


Cherry Blossom

by pr0nz69



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, Loneliness, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:53:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21965986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr0nz69/pseuds/pr0nz69
Summary: A petal dropped, landing in his hair; he shook it out. The trees were mostly bare now, the viewing parties, finished; he had watched from a distance as picnics popped up on checked blankets, families gathered…Had he and his father ever laid out a blanket together, sat under the boughs together? If his mother hadn’t passed so soon, if his father were still here, would they have been painted into the crowd as well, indistinguishable from all the rest? Would some other child have watched on from a distance, sick with envy?—Natsume reflects onhanami.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Cherry Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my piece from the Natsume Yuujinchou hanakotoba zine _Blooming_! I just adore this series, so I'm super happy to have been able to participate in this project! The meaning of the cherry blossom that I focused on is "transience."

In the cloak of sunset, the cherry blossoms burned red-pink, fallen to the ground like spilled blood when Natsume stopped over them to nurse his own wounds.

He was lucky, getting away from the oni when he did. A grazed forearm and a couple of bumps and bruises were easy enough to hide. He would have to buy Touko a new _furoshiki_ , though, because the one she had sent with his lunch was now wrapped around his arm, spotted with blood.

A petal dropped, landing in his hair; he shook it out. The trees were mostly bare now, the viewing parties, finished; he had watched from a distance as picnics popped up on checked blankets, families gathered…

Had he and his father ever laid out a blanket together, sat under the boughs together? If his mother hadn’t passed so soon, if his father were still here, would they have been painted into the crowd as well, indistinguishable from all the rest? Would some other child have watched on from a distance, sick with envy?

Another petal broke away, a flash of pink before his eyes, and on instinct, he cupped his hands and caught it. Somehow, it looked even smaller in his hand when lined up against the creases of his palm. Tiny red veins branched upward, woven and webbed like the tree it came from. He let it flutter to the ground to join the others. Every year, they drew crowds to celebrate their end.

No— _hanami_ only celebrated their final days. Once the petals were on the ground, who came to admire them?

On a whim, Natsume knelt and placed his palm on the ground. It was soft—a carpet of pastels. He stretched forward over it, inhaling through the petals the earthy sweetness of decay. If nobody else would, then he would appreciate the flowers’ death. He knew what it was like to be alone.

The wind sighed through his hair, shaking more petals loose. Rolling onto his back, he gazed up through the branches, at slices of sunset so bright he had to narrow his eyes. The silhouettes of the remaining petals ridged the sky like guideposts set along thin routes of bark. Burgundy clouds framed the eye of the sun.

The cherry blossoms could do a lot worse for a view. Maybe, if it were like this, even he wouldn’t mind lying here with them, forever…

The sound of his name jolted him up, setting his heart to pounding. How long had he been out here? Too long—the sunset was deep now, the eastern sky blue-black. He’d only meant to stop for a moment…

“Takashi-kun! Takashi-kun, where are you?”

It was Touko’s voice. Over the lump forming in his throat, Natsume called out, “Touko-san! I’m here!”

He could hear her footsteps, clumsy with haste, as she rounded the bend. He stood to meet her, sheepishly brushing himself off.

“Thank goodness,” she breathed, laying a hand over her heaving chest. “Where on earth have you been, Takashi-kun? We were worried sick!”

Natsume’s face burned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I took a different route, and…” He trailed off.

“But what happened to your arm? It’s bleeding!”

“I tripped… and fell. I’m really sorry—I’ll buy you another _furoshiki_.”

“Oh, Takashi-kun,” Touko sighed. “That isn’t what’s important. Let’s go home and clean it up.” She turned and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Shigeru-san! I’ve found him! We’re by the cherry blossom trees!”

Natsume stared at his feet. He’d inconvenienced the Fujiwaras yet again.

“Takashi,” Shigeru said when he joined them, strained face relaxing in relief. “Are you alright?”

“Yes—I’m fine. I’m sorry for making you come out here looking for me.”

“You’re free to explore the area,” Shigeru said, “but please let us know where you’ll be and when you expect to be back.”

Natsume hung his head. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Why did you take a different route home?” Touko asked.

“I—” Natsume hesitated. He couldn’t tell them he’d been ambushed by a passing band of oni. “I wanted… to see the cherry blossoms.” He hated lying to them.

To his alarm, their expressions grew somber.

“Takashi-kun,” Touko said. “Please forgive us.”

“We had wanted to invite you on a _hanami_ ,” Shigeru said. “To go as a family.”

Natsume felt something swell in the back of his throat. He blinked, as if that might clear it away.

“We wanted to,” Touko continued, “but we were afraid—afraid that it might trigger… unpleasant memories for you. We were afraid of upsetting you, but we really should have asked you rather than assume. I’m so sorry, Takashi-kun.”

The thing was still there in the back of his throat. If he didn’t swallow it down now, he was sure he would fall apart. “You don’t need to apologize—I don’t want to inconvenience you. I…”

They had wanted to look at the flowers—with _him_. He hadn’t even considered asking, not when they already did so much for him.

“Takashi-kun, I have an idea,” Touko said suddenly. “Can you gather up some of those petals? You, too, Shigeru-san.”

Natsume knelt alongside the Fujiwaras as they gathered the fallen petals into their hands like silken heartbeats. His own heart refused to be still.

Touko had them sit together beneath the cherry blossom trees’ branches.

“Let's have our own _hanami_. On the count of three, throw your petals into the air!”

It was such a simple little thing. There was no checked picnic blanket. There was no _sakura dango_ , no mochi or onigiri. But there was family—even if it was new as the first buds of spring or lasted no longer than the cherry blossoms in full bloom. It was still something precious, something worth protecting. The Fujiwaras must have realized that a long time ago.

Because even on the ground—and scattered in their hair as they laughed—the cherry blossoms really were quite beautiful.


End file.
